Decisions, Decisions
by Hanakage
Summary: Because in the end, it's the choices we make that define who we truly are. Vignette, implied NarutoxSasuke.


**Title:** Decisions, Decisions  
**Genre**: Angst, romance. FLUFF.  
**Rating**: K+  
**Pairing**: NarutoxSasuke  
**Wordcount**: 845  
**Warnings**: Light NarutoxSasuke. Set sometime waaay after the events of the current storyline.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto. Thankfully, for all of your sakes.  
**Summary: **Because ultimately, it's the choices we make that define who we truly are. Vignette, implied NarutoxSasuke.

As I've sort of been under a rock lately fandom-wise due to the workload of my senior year and applying for college, I haven't been able to write anything new for Naruto's birthday. (And I couldn't miss it, because I posted something for Sasuke-bastard's birthday, and here I actually _like_ Naruto.) So because I feel guilty for not writing anything new, I'm posting this tiny little oneshot (more a drabble or a vignette, actually; don't get your hopes up for something with plot), which I wrote for Naruto's birthday last year and posted on my livejournal but not on FFdotnet. It's short and mostly just introspection (gasp!) on Naruto's part, but it's fairly sweet, I think. I'm also feeling a bit guilty for the angstdump that was **In Their Love **and the apparent emotional torment it put people through. Forgive me?

* * *

**Decisions, Decisions**

When he really thought about it, it was astounding how much one decision could alter the course of an hour, a day, a month, a year, a lifetime.

It was mornings like this, when he woke long before the alarm clock's shriek pierced the stillness that enveloped him like the blankets of his bed—screams still echoing in his mind and the ghosts of memories fading behind his eyelids—that his mind couldn't help but wander to things he couldn't change.

It was mornings like this that he traced the scars he knew wouldn't be there.

While he knew that most people in his life would be quick to point out that he didn't make a habit of thinking at _all _(dear, kind friends that they were), that wasn't entirely true. Granted, he was quite aware that he was by no means fond of methodical processes and intellectual pursuits. Yet he also didn't _allow_ himself the pause to mull things over—because thinking and dwelling and _hurting_ were much too intricately correlated for his liking. (The line between them was not only fine, but razor sharp; _and oh, it hurt like hell_.)

It was mornings like this, where traces of light were just beginning to filter in through cracks in the blinds, ebbing away at the pitch-blackness of the room, that he could just barely make out the purple-blue of his veins and the dull _lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub _of his heart resonating in his chest.

—_alive, alive, alive. I'm… _

He wondered if it was by accident or choices he'd made that enabled his heart to remain beating to this very moment. (Though the _Neither, I'm just the most awesome ninja ever!_ went without saying.)

The decisions, the choices were there: incessant, from the light of dawn to the edge of sleep, from birth until death. They were a constant entity, whether one was conscious of them or not.

You could choose to hide under the covers or rise to greet the day (_one could hardly become Hokage by sleeping his life away!_).

You could skip breakfast or risk choking on it (_the food in his fridge would really go bad again if he never ate it…_).

You could choose to label your cup ramen half empty or half full (_either way, it was delicious!_).

You could slacken your grip on humanity, choose to let hatred fuel every heartbeat, breath, step (_everyone housed inner demons; some were just more…_ vocal _than others…_).

His profession called for killing without hesitation. Sometimes he wondered if it was it harder with or without a mask. Either way, he hoped it never became _easy_ to take another's life.

One could choose to forsake their village, to sever all bonds, to live and breathe and dream and bleed for vengeance. (_What a pity to reopen wounds that never clot._)

And he couldn't help but think that the greatest curse for clans like the Uchiha may just have been that they made decisions _for_ their sons and daughters—for how could anyone expect to live a life that wasn't theirs to begin with?

He could have allowed himself to break so long ago. He could have chosen to wallow and bemoan his misfortunes, could have let despair consume him and cry _Woe is me! _until his lungs collapsed. Yet he would not—on his shoulders he carried the faith bestowed upon him to house a demon, and in his soul, the desire to protect the village.

Everything would topple over if he walked with drooped shoulders, and what would that accomplish?

He found that you could choose to shut others out—to build up impenetrable defenses lest someone worm their way in. Or you could choose to fill your world with color, sound, and never let precious people go, whether they were miles away, or—

"Hn. Dobe."

–giving you a death glare at 5:08 in the morning.

Sasuke's eyes, half closed and still fogged over with sleep, matched the inky blackness of the early morning. He half-shifted toward Naruto, further rumpling the bed linens.

"I never thought I'd say this, but stop _thinking_ and go back to sleep," Sasuke said, nestling himself back down into the heat of the blankets, eyelids falling once again. He paused for a moment, two moments, on the cusp of sleep again—before grunting and tugging Naruto to him, laying his head against the tanned chest. (_To count the heartbeats, or just to listen__?) _

Naruto could feel the warm exhalations of breath on his skin. He thought Sasuke had fallen back asleep. But then lips brushed feather-light against the jut of his collarbone, expelling a soft "Happy birthday, idiot." _I'm glad you were born. _

…And as Naruto finally found himself slipping into a dreamless sleep, he knew that there were some decisions that your heart made for you.

—_alive, alive, alive. _

If he knew nothing else, it was that you could either choose to live with regrets, or live so that you never have them. Time and time again, he chose the latter, because living—truly _living_ (_hurting, laughing, loving_)—was a choice in itself.

And it was the best decision he'd ever made.

* * *

**A/N: **It's actually eerie how well this relates to the manga even more a year later-- knowing what we know about the choices Sasuke has been making over the course of the past several chapters. This fic really just serves to give Naruto the credit he so rightfully deserves for not being a whiner or an emobitch like Sasuke. :)

As always, reviews are love! Reviews help soothe the horrors of the college application process, they truly do! :D


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